A Simple Ghost Story
by Gecko Osco
Summary: Just the same old story; boy meets ghost, boy falls for ghost, the rest is simple.  No matter what Alfred thinks.
1. Part One

**TITLE:** A Simple Ghost(Love) Story  
**GENRE:** Romance/humor, a teeny bit of angst  
**PAIRING(S):** some Prussia/Hungary  
**RATING: **PG-13, for potty mouths**  
WARNINGS:** Possible necrophilia(not really, unless you're a prude ^_~), magical creatures, human names, fluff, lots of it  
**SUMMARY:** Just the same old story; boy meets ghost, boy falls for ghost, the rest is simple. No matter what Alfred thinks.  
**NOTES:** Done for the Secret Santa at **usxuk** community on Livejournal. A thousand thanks to the wonderful, loverly **absolute_power** who beta'ed this monstrosity for me and did it with love! A further thanks to the band The Fray whose wonderful song "Where the Story Ends" was a heavy inspiration to this story and you can spot it's influence in the titles of the parts. Hope you all enjoy, especially you **kupodesu**!

* * *

_**A Simple Ghost Story**_

_Part One:_ _All We Know is Distance _

Alfred Jones looked up at the big, moldy old house that was to be his home for the next few months and decided he was never listening to Kiku again.

He meant it this time; he was never listening to Kiku again, never, ever again. He could forgive the disastrous Comic-Con incident of 2006 when he AND Ivan Braginski had been scheduled to talk about how both of their comics were being adapted into movies at the same time because that fight had turned out awesome for publicity, but this, this was too far. Kiku was his editor, someone who was supposed to take care of his comic book creator and nurture his muses, not someone who tortured him in new and inventive ways!

This was supposed to be a relaxing retreat for him, something to help get him out of the funk he'd been in for the last few months; filled with the outdoors, clean air, and stress-free days away from a rabid fan base who all _needed_ to know what Captain Liberty, the savior of Independence City with his super strength and courage, would do next after defeating the evil General Winter who tried to bury the city in a hundred feet of snow. Liberty had saved the city, but had lost his powers to the General in order to save the lovely Lucy Mae, childhood friend and supposed love of Captain Liberty. It had been a thrilling end to a good storyline but now… now Alfred wasn't sure what to do next with his beloved hero. He'd figured when he'd started the story that by the time he actually got to Liberty losing his powers, he would've already had an awesome plan for how he got them back. No such luck though.

He had taken time off, as usual, after the comic book had released but when he had returned to his studio to begin work on the next issue, he found he could not think of one, not even one new and exciting plotline to show how Captain Liberty regained his powers. He knew it couldn't be easy and his fans were expecting something epic, something fantastic, something that was way cooler than falling into another vat of radioactive material, which was the best idea he seemed to be able to come up with. For months he storyboarded, played with ideas, tried to feed off Mattie and Kiku, but nothing seemed to work and Mattie told him he probably had a bit of a writer's block, that it was bound to happen eventually and he'd work himself out of it. That, however, wasn't good enough; Ivan Braginski had released the newest edition of his comic and as much as he hated the guy, Alfred had to admit that the new storyline he'd released was pretty damn cool.

Fans of Captain Liberty knew of the rivalry between Alfred and Ivan and the pressure to come out with a kick-ass new issue went even higher after that and still, 6 months later, he still had nothing to show for all the pressure and work. Mattie had suggested he take a break and get out of the country for a bit, that getting away might be able to help him calm down and come up with new ideas. Kiku had agreed and told him not two days later that he'd set up Alfred in a quaint little cottage in the English countryside in Kent and he'd have plenty of time to relax and unwind from all the stress.

However, he seemed to have forgotten to mention that the 'quaint little cottage' was actually a creepy-looking manor that looked like something out of a horror movie. He half-expected Leatherface to barge out with a bloody chainsaw any minute. Kiku knew, KNEW he hated anything and everything creepy and this house definitely was that; how was he supposed to relax when he had to worry about ghosts and monsters and giant bugs attacking? Alfred shivered and frowned as he parked his rental car in the dirt driveway and got out, glancing around and wishing he'd brought some salt with him. He took a deep breath, steeled his shoulders and headed inside, using the key to unlock the creaking door, dragging his duffel bags behind in after them.

The house wasn't falling apart or anything, but it definitely hadn't been lived in by anyone for a while—there was a thin layer of dust on the bookcases and the furniture looked a bit dated. He turned on the lights and pulled open the curtains after dropping the duffels on the floor, happy that he had working electricity and thinking the house wasn't so spooky when the sunlight came in. It was kind of nice actually, when it didn't look like axe-murders could hide out in the shadows. He opened up all the curtains and took out his phone, dialing Mattie as he walked out to the car and grabbed the rest of his stuff; his little brother had made him promise to call when he got to the house, as he was convinced that Alfred would kill someone driving on the other side of the road. Mattie, always the worry-wart.

Mattie answered on the second ring. "Hello? Alfred? Are you there? Did you get there ok? I told Kiku to triple-check those directions so you wouldn't get lost but—"

"Mattie, you need to breathe and take a chill pill. Yes, I'm here, yes the directions were fine, no accidents or maiming happened along the way, though you can tell Kiku he's a jackass and I hate him."

Mattie paused before asking tentatively, "Why do you hate Kiku?"

"Because he stuck me in this totally creepy house in the middle of nowhere, dude! I mean, it's big and stuff, and the furniture's sorta nice and all but seriously, it looks like a haunted house." He tucked his phone in between his shoulder and ear and lugged his other two duffel bags over his shoulders; he hadn't been sure how much to pack for a four-and-a-half month stay, but considering how lame he knew English food to be, he thought it a good idea to bring some of his favorite snacks, hence the other two duffel bags. "I've only got like one neighbor, a house down the road, so if I get attacked by ghosts or monsters in my sleep, Kiku can blame himself that there's no help nearby to save me as I'm being murdered."

"I'm sure it's not that bad, Al."

"Trust me, it is."

Mattie sighed and Alfred had to grin at the sound, he loved raising his brother's blood pressure. He plopped the duffel bags full of food onto the kitchen floor, happy that at least whoever owned the house kept the kitchen clean enough. "Well, maybe it'll be fun. You went away to get away from people, Al, so you could focus on your comic without distractions and relax; Kiku arranged the perfect place for you."

"Yeah, yeah… so, how's home?" Alfred hauled in his comic stuff inside and shut the door with his foot, setting all his graphic material and computer on a couch before deciding to do some exploring. He felt a bit better about it with Mattie on the phone, not that he was scared or anything.

"Fine, you've only been gone half a day. Mom and Dad want you to call them later."

"Will do." Alfred walked up the stairs, wincing when they creaked like every staircase in a horror movie did, and took in the antique-quality the house had. All the wood was in a rich, mahogany color and the carpet was soft, but not at all what he was used to back home. There were pictures lining the walls, all old-looking and depicting things like flowers and lakes and a cityscape or two he assumed was London. The house didn't smell, but there was a kind of lingering musty scent Alfred generally associated with his grandparents' house. It was big though, which was a lot different than his apartment in New York, and as long as you kept the curtains open, lots of sunshine brightened the place up.

"I mean it! I don't want to get mom's hysterical call at 2 AM because YOU forgot to call them to let them know you're alive."

"I said I would, Mattie, jeez, don't be such a nag." He peeked inside a large, opulent room with a huge bed in it and grinned. "Dude, you should check out the bed in this place! It's huge! The rooms are nice too, I guess… the décor's kind of old though." He laughed into the phone as he picked up a doily off a coffee table in the master bedroom and examined it before he snorted and dropped it, not caring that it landed on the ground.

"It's got good light though, right? So you can draw?"

"Yeah, the light's great once you open up the curtains. Who owns this house again? Kiku told me but I wasn't listening."

"Alfred…"

"Oh lighten up! It's not like he was talking about something important. I'm just curious. Whoever it is really needs to think about redecorating because I mean, it's pretty bad, Mattie!" Alfred shivered as he felt a cold breeze blow past him; that was another dock against the house: creepy, old, and drafty. "So, do you know?"

"It's some old family manor that got sold to that realtor company Kiku found years ago. Cakeland Estate or something… I'll ask Kiku tomorrow."

Alfred talked with Mattie for a few more minutes, long enough to check all the rooms and make sure they were all kosher (except for some locked door that probably led to the attic and Alfred had seen _Beetlejuice_ enough times to know that he should just leave that door alone) before hanging up. He needed to unpack and it'd be better if he had use of both hands for that task. He made his way back to the master bedroom and opened the closet up wide, happy there were shelves instead of just hangers and headed back downstairs, eyes glancing over the coffee table on his way out, the doily he'd dropped now perfectly placed in the center once more.

* * *

Kiku called the next day and told him that the house was once a part of the Kirkland Estate, which belonged to some old, rich family that used to own all the land and the homes around here in the late 1800s and to 'apologize profusely' about the old quality of the house and that he 'didn't mean' to send Alfred somewhere scary. Alfred knew Kiku well enough to know the jerk had probably done lots of research when arranging a good place for Alfred to have a retreat at, including looking at pictures and stuff. He knew exactly where he was sending Alfred to and probably laughed evilly while he did so! Or, smirk and chuckle, which was about as much of an evil laugh that you could get out of Kiku Honda.

Still, he had to admit, the light in the house was pretty good for sketching and drawing and it was relaxing not being constantly surrounded by people like he was back home. He had spent most of the night tossing and turning as he tried to get used to the unfamiliar bed. He knew to bring his own pillow from past hotel experiences, and had got a few hours of sleep, enough to give him energy to explore the house and the surrounding area some more. He explored most of the downstairs of the house, which he had pretty much ignored the previous day before deciding that not only were the old inhabitants old, they were boring, and went outside to look around the grounds.

The area around the estate was so green. Alfred had lived in cities his whole life and had never really seen green like this; he wondered if every song or book that referenced 'emerald hills' did so after visiting a place like this. There was a small forest a little west of the house but other than that, he was surrounded by green hills and blue skies interrupted only by little outcroppings of trees, bushes, and wildflowers along the dirt road. It was summer so the weather was mild enough that Alfred thought about setting up some of his stands and tablets outside but he'd try out the house first, and see which gave him more inspiration.

It was a little bit of a drive into the nearby village of Chattenden from the house but it was an easy enough route to travel, and it had been fun to explore the village for a few days, though he really didn't trust the food so brought most of his own. He just didn't think a country that had a food called steak and kidney pudding and enjoyed it could really be trusted with his stomach. After he felt sufficiently relaxed and de-stressed, he broke out all his comic material and tried to start drawing, tried to just do sketches for practice and storyboard ideas on Captain Liberty regaining his powers.

And that's where he was a week later, sitting on the porch of the manor, staring at a blank page of drawing paper, frustrated and stressed out again that his little retreat was having no effect on his block at all. Alfred groaned and leaned back on one of the chairs, pinching at his eyes as he felt a headache bloom, hating life and hating Mattie for giving him the false hope that going away would help him brainstorm. He gathered up his sketch pad and stomped back inside, slamming the door behind him so hard the walls shook—and that's when he felt it again, a cold, windless breeze shiver past him. The house was awfully drafty; he kept getting the shivers even though it was summer, but this time, the shivers were accompanied by something else.

"Would you stop stomping around and slamming doors in _my_ house, you uncouth ruffian!"

Alfred let out a yelp and dropped his sketch pads, whirling around at the sound of the voice behind him; but he saw nothing there. His eyes widened and he frowned as he picked up his stuff off the ground, hurrying up to his bedroom where he was charging his Blackberry. He knew it, he knew—no, no that was crazy. It wasn't a ghost, it was just the wind, even though the windows were closed, and his own frustration and stress that was getting to him. He had hardly eaten anything since lunch that day, he was probably hungry too and that was probably affecting his brain functions. That's all it was, just stress and an over-active imagination, not a ghost or an invisible man (because that had definitely sounded like a man's voice).

He heard a knock at the door and he jumped a bit, laughing uneasily at himself as he realized it was just knocking at the front door and certainly nothing to be scared over- not that he was scared mind you, just a little startled is all. He grabbed his phone and took a deep breath, humor taking a firmer hold on him as he walked back down the stairs and answered the door, smiling bright at the friendly-looking woman holding out a basket of yummy-smelling food. She was in her mid-twenties, probably only a few years older than Alfred, and had very pretty, long brown hair pulled back from her face with a kind of decorated kerchief and dark brown eyes.

"Hello there! Just wanted to pop over to say hello and welcome you to the neighborhood, small as it may be!" She spoke English fluently but had a slight accent that Alfred couldn't place. "You're visiting, yeah? From America?"

"Yeah, how did you know?" Alfred took the basket from her hands with quick thanks.

"Oh, the owner told me, we're old friends. My name's Elizaveta, I live just down there with my husband, Gilbert. You're welcome to stop by our home anytime you like for a good, home-cooked meal! I, ah, don't mean to insult my new home's national cuisine but—"

"I'm Alfred and insult away, I totally feel the same! Seriously, just some of the names make me wanna hurl," Alfred interrupted with a laugh. Elizaveta giggled too before there was a loud crash from upstairs, which drew both of their attentions upward. "I, uh, I guess my sketching stuff fell over."

"Oh no, that wasn't you. It's the Spirit… he's awfully temperamental and cranky, always works himself up into a snit when his homeland gets slighted in any way. Can't tell you how many times Gil has had a door slammed on his fingers or in his face."

Alfred stared at her, smile frozen on his face as Elizaveta's words processed in his head. "I-I think you said there's an actual GHOST in this house? Is that right?"

"Well of course, I thought everyone around here knew that; the owner, Vash, certainly does."

"And you're being completely serious? I mean, for real, there's a real live GHOST in this house?" Alfred's voice took on a slightly hysterical tone which made Elizaveta back up a pace and raised her hands apologetically.

"Oh, oh I'm so sorry, I assumed you knew! Damn it! I'm really sorry, Alfred, I didn't mean to scare you or anything, it's just that usually, when people rent the manor, they know it's haunted, it's one of the most well-known sites in England! People come here from all over to investigate or have the novelty of staying in a haunted manor, I assumed that Vash told you, or told your travel agent. I promise though, he's not a mean Spirit, just a little irritable is all. Are you all right, Alfred? Do you want to come over for a little while? You look a little—pale."

"What, no I'm fine, totally fine!" Alfred blinked a few times and smiled wide at Elizaveta. "I don't believe in that stuff, you know? And even if I did, I'm way too awesome for any old ghost to try and scare… anyway, really nice meeting you, tell your husband I say hi!"

He shut the door in the poor woman's face and dropped the food basket in the kitchen before running back upstairs. A haunted house, he was staying in a freaking _haunted house_! He was so getting back at Kiku when he got back to New York, he didn't care if he'd been duped as well by this nefarious Vash guy. He ran into his room and started checking inside the closets, under the bed, in the bathroom, expecting to see a ghostly figure waiting for him, maybe with a bloody knife or something, but he didn't find anything. Everything was in place, everything looked normal; everything looked just as it had before he had it confirmed that there really was a ghost living with him. He suppressed a shudder at the thought that the ghost could have been in the bathroom at the same time as he had been.

Well, one thing was for sure and that was he hadn't travelled all the way out here and spent all the money on a plane ticket to be driven out of the house because of some cranky, dead old man! He narrowed his eyes at the room and stood tall, channeling every bit of his heroic persona Captain Liberty that he could and reminding himself that he was every bit as courageous and heroic as the Captain was since he had created him. He could certainly take on some cranky old ghost. He took a deep breath and prepared himself, grabbing one of his sketchpads to use as a bludgeoning device should it come to a fight—he wasn't sure how effective a sketchpad would be against a ghost but it was something.

"Hey, I know you're there now, Ghost! Where are you hiding?" he yelled out loud to the room. Alfred's shouts went unanswered and he cocked an eyebrow, waiting for something to rattle or a door to slam, or maybe even that weird, cold breeze. But nothing happened. He frowned and decided to try again. "Can you hear me, you cranky old man? I know you're here now so you can just, I don't know, skedaddle. Go haunt a different house!"

Still nothing. Alfred looked around and his eyes settled on the doily on the coffee table and he smiled as an idea popped into his head. Elizaveta said he was cranky and Alfred had heard the voice yell at him when he slammed the door… he was probably a neat-freak too. He dropped the sketchpad and dug around in one of his art bags, making a small noise of success when he grabbed a permanent marker, waving it around the room as he walked over to the coffee table.

"All right, not sure if you know what this is, as you're probably really old, but this is a pen that will permanently stain anything it touches. As in forever. So, if you don't show your damn ghost face in two seconds," he snatched up the doily from the coffee table for dramatic effect, "I'm going to mark all over this doily—"

"You do and I'll personally make sure all those ruddy sketchpads of yours are ruined!" Alfred turned fast in the direction the cold, angry voice was coming from, marker and doily still in hand, _really_ wishing he had some salt, and stared into the face of a young man who was perhaps only a few years older than he was. He looked in confusion while the young man, who was sort of see through and had a pale glow around him, gazed back in anger, fists clenched tight at his side, enormous eyebrows furrowed over a pair of the greenest eyes Alfred had ever seen. Messy, pale-looking hair framed the ghost's face and as Alfred stared, the only thing he could think was that he didn't think ghosts were generally so… adorable.

While he looked, the ghost's anger started to dissipate into confusion as the human just stood there, eyes strangely focused on the space the ghost occupied, almost as if he could _see_ the ghost. But that was impossible; no one, not in a hundred and fifteen years, had been able to really see him. Oh sure, they all knew he was there, what with his door rattling, voice echoes, and the cold breeze he could send forth, but never had anyone been able to really see him, even when he stood, or floated really, right in front of their noses. But still, why was this boy just staring at him then? He cocked an eyebrow and waved a pale hand slowly in front of the human's face, chiding himself as he did so, knowing that it was completely pointless and the human was just likely simple-minded—

"Uh, hi?" was his response, along with a wave of hello. The ghost yelped, actually yelped, and floated backwards and out of sight. "Wait! I wasn't—where did you go? I'm not gonna hurt you, and you're dead anyway so what could I even do to you? Mr. Ghost?"

There was silence at first, but then Alfred heard a much quieter and much more hesitant voice echo behind him and he grinned as he turned around. "You- you can see me?"

"Well, yeah of course! I mean, you're standing- uh, floating, right there."

The ghost stared at him, as if gauging the truth in his response before he floated back down the floorboards, solidifying into a clear set of legs and a pair of feet. He was shorter than Alfred by a little bit. The ghost continued his silent contemplation before he crossed his arms in front of his chest and cocked his head to the side, giving Alfred small nod in acknowledgment of his words. "No one's ever been able to see me before."

"Really?"

"Why else would I say so?"

"I guess I'm just way more awesome then anyone else who's stayed here!"

The ghost snorted and rolled his eyes as he floated around Alfred, his eyes still studying and probing—it was starting to make Alfred feel a little nervous. "So, you're a ghost and everything."

"An astute observation, idiot. Of course I'm a ghost! What else would I be?"

"Hey, no need to get all snappy! It's not like I've encountered a lot of ghosts before or planned to when I came here. And would you cut that out? You're creeping me out with the staring!"

Alfred wouldn't have known it was possible if he didn't witness it, but the ghost flushed a slightly rosy shade before he mumbled an apology and focused his eyes on the floor for a moment. He felt another grin stretch across is face and he took a tentative step towards where the ghost had settled by the window, not wanting to startle him as he appeared kind of skittish and as unnerved by the idea of Alfred being able to see him as Alfred had been with the idea that there was a ghost in the house. The ghost watched him with narrowed eyes before he huffed and placed his hands on slender, faded-out hips.

"I'm not a frightened child, unlike someone else in this room not ten minutes ago. There's no need to inch forwards as if I am."

"Whatever dude. Just being, I don't know, polite or something," Alfred said with humor. "I'm Alfred, Alfred F Jones."

"I know; your name is all over your sketch books and luggage."

"You're supposed to introduce yourself now, not creep me out more with your spying. Have you forgotten all your manners being dead?"

The ghost spluttered before he 'stomped' forward and waved a finger in Alfred's face. "As if you know anything about manners, you- you rude, ill-spoken, messy brat! I'll have you know I was raised with _impeccable_ manners and certainly exercise them much better than you do!"

"All right, all right, don't need to get your panties in a twist! I just wanted to know your name—but you have to admit, looking at all my stuff without my permission is pretty rude."

"This is MY home and YOU are the one trespassing in it. I'm allowed to inspect the qualities of the person with whom I am forced to share my afterlife with for the next few months!"

"You're dead though so you can't really own a house."

"Would you quit saying that?"

"What?"

"That I'm dead!"

"But you are! How is that offensive?"

"You- you can't just fling that back in a ghost's face! How would you like to have something you hated about yourself shoved in your face constantly?"

Alfred stared back at the ghost as a saddened, kind of angry expression settled over his face and he felt a swell of regret bloom in his chest at the sight. He guessed ghosts probably didn't like being reminded that they're dead, since they were obviously stuck on Earth for some reason and not able to 'move on.' It must suck having to watch everyone around you living and enjoying life while you had to just hang around, not alive but not fully at rest. He felt a rush of pity for the ghost and wanted to reach out and give him a hug, but he was pretty sure that a.) the ghost would not appreciate pity and b.) he wouldn't be able to hang on the ghost long enough for a hug anyway. So he settled for an apologetic hand raise and smile.

"Okay, okay, you're right. I won't say it anymore."

The ghost frowned but gave a nod before settling back against the window. Alfred didn't want to crowd him so he stuck out his hand gave an encouraging smile to the ghost, deciding to try starting over with their introduction. "Let's try this again, my name's Alfred, but most of my friends just call me Al. What's your name? I don't want to have to keep calling you 'ghost' all the time!"

The ghost didn't move from his spot near the window for several moments, just stared at Alfred and his hand with those greener-than-green eyes, but eventually he stepped forward and settled his transparent hand against Alfred's- nothing actually touching because they couldn't, but his hand resting against the palm of Alfred's slightly so that it appeared they were. Alfred gave a small laugh and grin as he looked at their hands, wondering how he could have ever been scared of this ghost before, a ghost who was blustery and cranky but just as nervous as Alfred was, just as unsure at meeting a new friend as any living human would be.

"I'm Arthur. Arthur Kirkland. It's a pleasure to meet you, Alfred."

"Yeah, nice to meet you too, Arthur."

Well, it wasn't what he had expected to happen when he first decided to take a trip to try and jumpstart his creative juices again, but Alfred knew one thing was for sure. Things were definitely going to get interesting having a ghost as a new friend, and Alfred was going to do everything he could to try and help his new friend find the 'light', so to speak. It seemed the least he could do.

TBC…

* * *

Review, yes?


	2. Part Two

**TITLE:** A Simple Ghost(Love) Story  
**GENRE:** Romance/humor, a teeny bit of angst  
**PAIRING(S):** some Prussia/Hungary  
**RATING: **PG-13, for potty mouths**  
WARNINGS:** Possible necrophilia(not really, unless you're a prude ^_~), magical creatures, human names, fluff, lots of it  
**SUMMARY:** Just the same old story; boy meets ghost, boy falls for ghost, the rest is simple. No matter what Alfred thinks.  
**NOTES:** Done for the Secret Santa at **usxuk** community on Livejournal. A thousand thanks to the wonderful, loverly **absolute_power** who beta'ed this monstrosity for me and did it with love! A further thanks to the band The Fray whose wonderful song "Where the Story Ends" was a heavy inspiration to this story and you can spot it's influence in the titles of the parts. Hope you all enjoy, especially you **kupodesu**!

* * *

_**A Simple Ghost Story**_

_Part Two: We're Close and Then We Run_

"So, you're _the_ comic book artist for this series? As in the creator?"

"Yeah, and…? You look surprised."

"Well, when you spoke of your difficulties of late I'd assumed you were speaking of getting the story right so you could get published, not that you already had a thriving series published, adored at your age, and had a bit of writer's block. It's a bit of a surprise to see you've already accomplished all this when you're in, what, your early twenties?"

"Twenty-two. And thanks, I think. I had some help in getting it going. My publisher, Kiku, he knows this guy and he helped in getting the first draft to the right people. How do you even know what a comic book is anyway? You've been dead for over a hundred years!"

"Were you not paying attention when the neighbor told you this happens to be one of the most active sights for paranormal and mystic activity in all of England? For the past twenty years I've been forced to share my home with sloppy men who do nothing but jump at every noise they make but claim that _I _make and read nothing but those comic books. I believe the term you Americans like to use to describe them is 'nerd.'"

Alfred smiled and gave a laugh at the expression that passed over Arthur's face as he flipped the page of his most recent comic book so Arthur could read; the ghost missed reading and being a ghost, he wasn't exactly able to hold onto objects. Arthur was reading the latest battle between Captain Liberty and General Winter with a fervor that Alfred found endearing and awesome, though he claimed that it was all a load of rubbish whenever Alfred teased him about liking it. Alfred was planning on picking up a few actual books the next time he visited the village; even though they were way more boring than his comic books he figured that Arthur would appreciate the gesture.

It had been close to two months since Alfred had learned of Arthur's existence and they had started their odd friendship, and they had been the most laid-back and enjoyable months Alfred could remember having in a long time. Arthur was easily irritable, cross most of the time, and had a perverse sense of humor (mainly because it involved making Alfred trip or walk into doors), but he was also caring and a good listener. Alfred couldn't remember unloading on anyone all the stress and worries he had about his life, the comic, and everything else as much as he had on Arthur in the past few weeks. And he felt better for it; he felt freer and stronger than before after airing out all the crap he'd been stressing over and not being told he was overreacting or that he just needed to relax in response.

Arthur didn't give him any bullshit answers about how he'd get back his 'mojo' if he just relaxed or that he was just going through a slump and he'd get out of it eventually if he was just patient. No, he told him to stop being a "lazy berk" and "to work himself out of whatever slump he got himself into instead of whining about it all bloody day," which was actually way more effective than anything else he'd been told. He'd started sketching a few days ago and even though he still wasn't sure where he wanted to go with the new storyline, he was much happier with the drawings he was producing. It might also have been because Arthur liked to hover over him and watch him draw and he didn't want the ghost to think badly of his abilities.

Alfred liked having him there though. Alfred liked having Arthur around in general. It was weird to think that he'd wanted to have him exorcised _Ghostbusters_ style when he first arrived, and it made him oddly sad to think about how he'd disappear when Alfred figured out what Arthur's 'unfinished business' was.

Arthur didn't say it in so many words how unhappy he was with being a ghost, but Alfred could imagine he was and that'd he'd be happier if he could actually 'move on' or something. He always had this wistful kind of look on his face when Alfred caught him watching him, almost like he was jealous of Alfred for something as simple as making a sandwich or even picking up the trash. It would make him happy, to be able to find peace and stuff, even if it kind of sucked for Alfred that it meant he'd lose his friend. But still, he was a hero just like Captain Liberty, and being a hero meant you had to sacrifice sometimes for the greater good.

The only problem was Alfred wasn't quite sure how to broach to Arthur the question of exactly what his unfinished business was, as the ghost had been very quiet regarding anything to do with his life or death. Oh, he went on and on about the different things he'd seen or learned in his afterlife, being cooped up as he was in the manor, but he was very strict in keeping most of the conversation on Alfred. It was probably normal, Alfred guessed. Talking about your life was probably pretty traumatic for a ghost, probably even more so talking about how he died. Still, if he was going to help Artie, he was going to need to know that stuff; the trick was getting the ghost to talk about it without feeling pressured.

Alfred had spent a lot of time on his grandparents' farm as a kid though, and if he could calm down an angry, bucking stallion with some sugar cubes, he could figure out how to handle his temperamental ghost no problem.

"Can you turn the page?"

Alfred snapped out of his musings and gave Arthur a grin as he turned the page of the comic book so Arthur could read how Captain Liberty used his super strength to put up and hold blockades to protect the city from a huge avalanche General Winter had sent sweeping down. Arthur was doing his half-floating, half-sitting thing on a chair beside Alfred in the kitchen, hovering close to Alfred's shoulder, so close that if Arthur were solid and alive Alfred could probably feel his breath on his neck. The thought was kind of nice, being able to feel Arthur so close to him—Alfred frowned at the odd thought before he shook his head and focused back on Arthur.

"What is the little blob that follows the Captain about? I thought it was a thought bubble at first but it has eyes here."

Alfred looked to where Arthur pointed with a transparent finger and grinned wider. "That's Mochimerica, Captain Liberty's pint-size, shape-shifting helper. The Captain rescued him from an underground laboratory doing illegal experiments to try and topple the governor with an army of indestructible creatures a few issues back. Mochimerica was so grateful towards the Captain for rescuing it from the evil scientists who created it but wouldn't let it eat burgers, a food it craved more than anything, so it decided to help the Captain in fighting crime!"

Arthur raised a large eyebrow at Alfred. "But it's a blob. A blob that likes to eat hamburgers. How much help can it possibly be?"

"A lot of help, duh! Look here!" Alfred turned the page and pointed to how Mochimerica had morphed around the Captain's feet and helped to steady him. "It's helping the Captain not lose his balance or footing as he stops the avalanche by forming a kind of glue for his feet! Captain Liberty is strong, but even he can't stop a mountain of snow all by himself!"

"Why does it have that odd horn atop its head?"

"That's not a horn, that's Mochimerica's hair!"

Arthur gave a soft chuckle as Alfred turned the page, and Alfred felt a warm tickle in his stomach at how alive he looked when he laughed. Arthur passed a glance over Alfred before looking at the Captain and Mochimerica, a smirk settling over his laugh as he pointed at the heroes. "You know, I can't help but notice how similar you and Captain Liberty look. You both have blue eyes, you both are blond, and you both have that errant hair that sticks out from your head. And you certainly share Mochimerica's disgusting food preferences."

"You're one to talk about yucky foods; you've got the word 'blood' alongside 'pudding' you know. And—well, so what if he's a_ little_ like me? I wanted to make him awesome, and as I'm the most awesome guy I know, it only seemed natural!"

"Of course it did." Arthur was still smirking and chuckling a bit under his non-existent breath, his tone blatantly sarcastic but holding warmth in it still. He propped his chin up on his hand and continued to read Alfred's comic with a look of contentment- which Alfred had discovered was rare for the blustery ghost- crossing over his face as they read together. Alfred took a deep breath as they reached the end of the comic, intent on trying to ask Arthur a personal question while he was distracted, but the ghost let out surprised breath as they got to General Winter's bargain for Lucy Mae's safety and whirled his unusually bright green eyes on him.

"He really loses his powers? It's not a trick or anything, but he actually loses them?"

"Uh, yeah. That's the problem, remember? He lost his powers and now I need to find a way to give them back that doesn't involve a vat of nuclear waste. I didn't think it'd be hard when I first decided to take away his powers but now—I don't know. I can't figure out a way that'll make the fans happy but is still awesome and unique and makes sense."

"I- I suppose I just assumed that he was bluffing when you mentioned that. You'd gone on about how much the Captain loved defending the city, so I'd assumed that while he wanted to protect Lucy Mae, he would've just bluffed losing his powers and you were trying to figure out a method for him to fool General Winter."

"Nah, I wanted him to really lose them—he really loves her, you know. And he'd do anything to save her, even giving up something he loves. Kinda corny I guess." Alfred chuckled nervously as he said the words, knowing it was more than a little corny to show the romance in his comic that obviously, but that had been what he wanted. He wanted to show just how much the Captain loved Lucy Mae and what loving someone so much meant. His mom called him a romantic; he guessed he was, a little bit. He watched Arthur's expression, waiting for some kind of snort or comment on how stupid that was, but he did neither.

Arthur went silent as he stared at the last panel of the comic, a sad, faraway look entering his eyes when Lucy Mae was released and she wrapped her arms around the broken Captain on the dirty floor. It was more of an emotional response than Alfred was expecting and he felt a pit grow in his stomach, wishing he could do something to comfort that sad look in Arthur's eyes, but his main mode of comfort involved hugs and shoulder claps, and he couldn't do any of that with Arthur. He closed the comic and set it aside, a crease forming between his eyes as he watched Arthur stare into nothing.

"Hey, Arthur, you okay?"

Arthur blinked rapidly and jerked his head up quickly, staring into Alfred's face with an unreadable expression before he frowned and floated into a standing position. "Fine. Why wouldn't I be? It's nothing but a silly comic, certainly not anything to get upset over. Now, if you'll excuse me."

"Wait, don't g—!" Alfred started, but with that, Arthur was gone. Alfred sighed and stood up from the table, gathering up the comic books he'd been reading with Arthur all that afternoon, frowning sadly and kicking himself for even mentioning anything. Arthur was so bipolar, one minute sad and the next minute all in a huff, so of course he'd just get all stuffy at Alfred's concern. He put the comics back in his bag, pausing on the cover of the last one and wondering why Arthur had gotten so upset at the Captain losing his powers, why he'd gotten upset because he'd done it for love. Alfred thought it had been a really cool idea that showed how heroic and awesome Captain Liberty was, even if it was a little corny.

Shrugging, he decided it wouldn't hurt to start making something for dinner; he'd miraculously found some frozen hamburgers at one of the markets in the village and had bought 6 boxes or so. A hamburger would be the perfect way to help bump him out of the melancholy mood Arthur's abrupt departure had brought on.

* * *

"But he's been all mopey for days now! I mean, I know he's a ghost and gets upset over little stuff all the time, but isn't five days a little excessive to stomp around the house, _invisibly_ you know, and slam doors, windows, and rugs into my face?"

Elizaveta shook her head and gave Alfred a sympathetic smile as she served up tea and a tray of cookies. Her husband, Gilbert, was seated on the sofa across from them but he was munching on a bag of chips, called crisps in England which confused Alfred because chips were French fries here and whenever he asked for where the chips were he got odd looks. He was flipping through one of Alfred's comics as he munched; Gilbert was kind of obnoxious and rude but he liked Alfred's comics, so he wasn't a complete asshole. Still, Alfred wasn't sure how Elizaveta put up with him; he seemed to frustrate her constantly and she'd already hit him three times and threatened him twice with a frying pan since he'd been there. Oh well, if it worked for them, it worked for them—Alfred was sure glad he wasn't the one married to Gilbert though.

"Are you surprised? I wouldn't be shocked to find out that damn ghost has a huge ghost-stick up his ass," Gilbert quipped. He didn't look up from his comic but seemed to notice the dirty look Elizaveta shot him because he smirked and blew a sideways kiss to her. "So he's in more of a snit than usual. He's a ghost, what do you expect?"

"There's a difference between a ghost who's always mopey being mopey and a ghost who was in a fine mood before and is now depressed and miserable, Gilbert!" Elizaveta glared at her husband, who ignored her entirely, before she gave Alfred an apologetic look and offered him more cookies. "I'm so sorry about him, Alfred. He's an uncouth, no good, dirty idiot and we just have to ignore him."

"I'm awesome and you know it."

"If you don't directly acknowledge him, he'll eventually get infuriated and leave." Alfred grinned with Elizaveta as Gilbert huffed and flipped the comic book page with a bit more force than usual. "But back to your problem with Arthur. You know it's so nice to actually be able to put a name to the face, so to speak! It's still amazing to think that you can actually see him!"

"I'm just happy you don't think I'm crazy."

"Oh pish posh, nothing crazy about believing in or seeing ghosts! I told you, that manor is one of the most renowned spots of paranormal and mystic activity in all England!"

Alfred grimaced around a cookie. "Oh Liz, please don't tell me you believe in fairies and gnomes and unicorns too! Arthur won't shut up about them and how they live in that little forest by the house."

"You have been bunking with a ghost and speaking with him on a daily basis, yet you don't believe in magical creatures?" Elizaveta shook her head disapprovingly as she sipped her tea. "I imagine Arthur doesn't take to kindly to that."

"He shut a window on my hand."

Elizaveta nodded sagely. "That certainly sounds like him. But anyway, back to your 'problem.' The key to getting someone out of a depression is to talk them out of it! Gentle and compassionate communication is the key—"

"Yeah right," Gilbert muttered. He gave a derisive snort at the offended look his wife directed towards him before he set down Alfred's comic and swung his legs off the couch and back on the floor. "Look, maybe 'soft talk' stuff out works for girls all right, but not on guys. If you really want to know what's wrong with your ghost, I suggest you _make_ him tell you what's wrong and quit being a loser about it. He'll yell, maybe cry, and then everything will come pouring out and go back to normal in your little freak-show house."

"I'm serious, Gilly, I'll get the frying pan!"

"And on that lovely note, thanks for the read, Al, hope you get more of it out soon." Gilbert gave Alfred a smirk as he dropped the comic in his lap and gave his wife a quick kiss on the cheek before heading out. Elizaveta still looked annoyed, but she had a slight flush to her skin as she turned back to face Alfred.

"Oh, that man…sometimes I don't know whether I want to snog him or hit him senseless!"

Alfred wasn't quite sure how to respond so he settled for giving a quick grin of agreement. "Do you think he's right? I mean, Arthur says he enjoyed knitting and cooking and stuff, but he's not very girly."

"Maybe. Can I see that page of the comic he got upset over?"

Alfred flipped the comic open to the last page and handed it over, tapping his fingers absently on the armrest while Elizaveta studied the last page intently; when she was done and looking back up, she had a starry look in her eyes that made Alfred chuckle. She handed the comic back over and sighed, smiling wide as she cradled her chin in her hands.

"Oh, that was so romantic!"

"Thanks! I mean, didn't want it to get too sappy or whatever, but happy you liked it!"

"And this is what upset Arthur?"

"Yeah. He got all weird and disappeared after reading this part."

"Did you say anything to him?"

"What, on the ending? I guess—I just said I wanted to show the fans how much Captain Liberty loves Lucy Mae and that he'd sacrifice anything to keep her safe."

Elizaveta frowned for a moment before she clapped her hands and gave a little cry of success. "Oh, it's so simple! He was upset because he's probably never been in love! You said he was young, right? Maybe his unfinished business is that he's never been in love and he can't move on until he can resolve his issues with that. Or fall in love himself!"

Alfred frowned and thought it over. That certainly did make sense, but Alfred wasn't sure how exactly he could be expected to help Arthur move on if that was really what was holding him back. Granted, Elizaveta's response was kind of ridiculous and probably leaning more towards her romantic inclinations, but Alfred thought she hit the nail on the head with pegging why Arthur got upset with the comic. Never been in love… that sure sounded like unfinished business to him. And Arthur was pretty young for a ghost; it must've sucked dying so young and never having experienced the rush of being in love. Not that Alfred could really speak for what the 'rush' felt like; he'd been with people and thought he might have really liked a few of them, but that was probably it. If you loved someone, you'd know, and Alfred had never known for sure.

Still, there was a big problem that reared its ugly head in Alfred's mind as Elizaveta gushed about how this had to be the reason and citing all the evidence she could come up with. If never being in love was the unfinished business, and either dealing with that or falling in love was _really_ how to help Arthur move on…

How was Alfred supposed to help with that?

* * *

Alfred stayed with Elizaveta and Gilbert for dinner, because Elizaveta made awesome food and always had Alfred take home leftovers, and then headed back towards the house, still mulling over exactly how to approach Arthur with all the new information he had swimming around in his head. The direct approach recommended by Gilbert seemed the most effective method, but Alfred also did not want to have anything slammed into his face or his toes. He guessed he could try a hybrid method to ease Arthur into talking about his 'unfinished business' before breaking out the big guns, but he wasn't sure how to begin. Hopefully Arthur had at least ventured out of wherever he was hiding (Alfred guessed the attic), so he didn't have to threaten the curtain or upholstery with colored markers again.

Alfred took a deep breath and blew it out noisily as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. It was summer but it still got chilly as the sun set, and while it wasn't that long a walk back to the Kirkland manor, Alfred had decided it was best if he brought a light jacket to help ward off the chill. He was happy Mattie had insisted on having him pack it, it certainly helped to have it nearby when Arthur floated in and brought that weird breeze-thing with him. However, despite the jacket, he gave a little shudder as he walked past the edge of the little forest that bordered the Kirkland manor and hunched his shoulders closer together. He didn't like the forest, for some reason; it just gave him the creeps.

Which, as it turned out, was for good reason; a tree root snagged his foot and yanked him down to the ground in the span of a millisecond and started dragging him into the creepy forest before he could even think to do more than yelp. By the time the root stopped dragging him, he was surrounded by dark green and he felt a scream start to bubble up and out of his throat when the roots let go and slithered away. As he scrambled to his feet, eyes wild and glasses askew on his face, he blinked rapidly as what appeared to be a small horse cantered into the clearing. And by horse, he meant _unicorn_, because that was definitely a horn jutting out from its forehead. He blinked again and shook his head as the horse with a strap-on horn came close and neighed in a manner that was unmistakably laughter. Alfred felt nervous words spill out of him as he stared in disbelief at the legendary creature standing before him.

"What are—how did—are you—"

"After living with a ghost for a few months, you think you'd be less surprised with a unicorn."

Alfred's eyes got bigger and he slumped back down to the ground, sending stray leaves and dirt scattering as he stared at the unicorn, the talking unicorn, and tried to take everything in. Not a minute ago he'd been walking, everything had been normal, and he hadn't believed in things like unicorns because while he did believe in ghosts and stuff, unicorns and fairies were just lame. Obviously though, he'd never imagined a unicorn quite like the one staring down at him, because there was nothing lame about what he was looking at. And he was talking to Alfred, he, because that was a male's voice, light blue coat almost looking white in the darkness of the trees, indigo-colored mane and tail looking even darker against the pale coat and dark, dark blue eyes fixated on him in amusement.

"You- you can talk?"

The unicorn snorted and shook his regal, almost lion-like mane back in time with the flicking of his tail, the pointed hoofs moving impatiently on the ground. If it was possible for a lion, a deer, and a horse to cross-breed, the result might be similar to the unicorn Alfred was staring at; still, Alfred had never seen anything as beautiful in his life, even if it was freaky that a _unicorn_ was _talking_ to him.

"Obviously," he drawled. "Otherwise you'd be quite mad. Pick your poison."

Alfred scrambled back to his feet for a second time and cast an anxious glance around the surrounding forest hurriedly before he focused back on the unicorn. "I- uh, I didn't umm…why did you drag me here?"

"Well, I certainly didn't drag you anywhere; that was the fairies. But you're here because we've all decided you're not some nutter and genuinely seem to want to help Arthur Kirkland. So, I wanted to have a little chat."

"Uh, who's the 'we' here?"

The unicorn nickered again before he cantered up next Alfred, blinking his impossibly dark blue eyes owlishly at him. "I suspect a bunch of creatures you didn't believe in prior to five minutes ago. You know, 'mystical' creatures, which is frankly a load of bollocks. We've certainly been here longer than any of your kind have, nothing mystical about us. So what if we value our privacy? Not every race likes to be gawked at."

"Like- like fairies and leprechauns and stuff?"

"As we're not in Ireland, no to the leprechauns, but basically yes. But I'm not here to help you grapple with what's real and what isn't, I'm here to talk to you about helping the poor ghost trapped in that manor for the past hundred and some odd years."

Alfred blinked and stared at the unicorn again, trying to push aside the fact that he was talking and apparently in cahoots with fairies, because he wanted to help Alfred help Arthur and that was way more important. "Really? You know how I can help him? Elizaveta, the neighbor down the road, she said it's because he hasn't been in love before and that he needs to deal with that or fall in love, and I'm not even sure how that would work as he's dead and all. Do you know why he's dead? He won't say anything about it, but as he's always going on about you guys here, he probably tells you all that stuff."

The unicorn was silent after the word vomit he snorted again and cocked his head at Alfred. "You're very _genuine_ in wanting to help the ghost, interesting."

Alfred blinked in confusion. "Why's that?"

The unicorn ignored his question. "Do you want my help or would you rather ramble off on tangents until the sun comes up?"

Alfred smiled a bit sheepishly before he nodded; the unicorn nickered again and gave a nod of his own before continuing. "We're rather fond of Arthur Kirkland, have been since he was a boy, and as it's partly because of us he met his untimely death, we've been waiting for a chance to truly help him. The fairies believe that chance may be you. You can see him, you want to help him, and you've puzzled out a large reason as to why he is still here among us, neither living nor truly dead."

"But, he's a ghost," Alfred interjected swiftly. "So he's got to be dead! That's how it works, isn't it? You die, but you've got unfinished business here so you can't move towards the 'light' right?"

"If that was the case, don't you think there'd be a much higher number of ghosts wandering about?" the unicorn asked him dryly. "Not everyone who dies with 'unfinished business' becomes a ghost, as nearly everyone dies with something that could hold them here. Most spirits do move on, regardless of things left undone here; ghosts are what happens when the body dies but the spirit is unable to—Arthur is a ghost because he is Faerie Touched and when he was killed, the magic in his soul kept him here."

"Magic?" Alfred asked skeptically, not caring he was talking to a unicorn of all things.

"You know, I've always found humans' dismissal of 'magic' humorous. You surround yourself with your own brand of magic every day except you call it science. They are not that different from one another. Nonetheless, the truth of the matter is Arthur is a Touched soul, meaning he could see all sorts of Fey creatures and phenomena and it trapped his soul here as a ghost."

"Why would it do that? That seems like a curse."

"Or perhaps it was a gift, a second chance."

Alfred waited for the unicorn to elaborate on his cryptic answer, but he just stood there and looked smug so Alfred pushed through. "Ok, so how can I help?"

"You've already been told how you can help, that clever woman down the road worked it out for you."

"What, getting Arthur to fall in love? And how exactly am I supposed to do that? We can argue whether he's technically dead or just halfway there, but still, it's not like he can go out and meet girls when no one but me can see him."

"Who said anything about random girls? And you said it yourself, _you_ can see him, problem solved."

The unicorn stared at Alfred in a knowing fashion and after a moment it clicked in his head with terrible, exciting, and mind-boggling certainty. "What, you mean ME? You want me to get Arthur to fall for ME?"

"You're quite loud as it is, there's no need to shout, I'm right here," the unicorn quipped dryly. "Of course I'm referring to you. Have you met any other eligible young men who can see Arthur around recently?"

"But- but—"

Alfred didn't even know how to protest. What the hell was the unicorn even on about? How did he expect Alfred to get a stuffy, Victorian era ghost to fall for him, and why would Alfred even want him to? Sure, Alfred wasn't fussy about gender and had a supportive family and all that so it wasn't about Arthur being a guy, but seriously, he was a ghost! It didn't matter how kind he was under all that bluster, how good of a friend he'd been to Alfred the past two months, how he smiled and enjoyed every one of Alfred's comics even though he clearly was more a fan of stuff like Shakespeare. Or how green his eyes were, that he was quite attractive for being a transparent phantom, that Alfred had those weird stomach cramps whenever Arthur would give him a small smirk, smile, laugh. Or- or—

"You want to help him, I'm telling you how. Whether you can or not isn't something any of us can control; though I doubt the fairies would have even contacted the rest of us about you if they didn't believe there was a chance that you could." The unicorn's words were almost gentle as he rested his chin on Alfred's shoulder, the soft, downy hair on his cheek brushing against Alfred's.

"Yeah, yeah ok… I guess that makes sense. But isn't that messed up? Getting him to fall in love and then sending him on after that?" Alfred felt uncharacteristically angry at the thought. Arthur had never been in love, or maybe never been in love with someone who loved him back; if his ticket out of being a ghost meant finding that kind of love and then being forced from it…it wasn't fair at all.

"You'd be surprised how powerful the human heart can be, if the human is strong enough to endure. You'd also be surprised at all it can do with the proper motivation." The unicorn stepped away from Alfred, pointing with one of his hoofs out of the forest the same way the tree roots had dragged him in by. There was something odd in his voice, something that seemed to want to imprint itself in Alfred's mind, as if what he was saying would make more sense at the right time. Alfred hated riddles.

"So, that's it? That's all you're going to tell me? Nothing about how Arthur was killed or about how I'm supposed to make him fall for me or anything?"

"Yep. I suggest if you want the rest of your answers, you ask Arthur yourself. I'm off now, it was lovely chatting with you, Mr. Jones. If you manage to work everything out, bring Arthur out to meet us here after everything's taken care of. I'm sure he misses us quite a bit."

And with that, the unnamed unicorn bounded back off into the forest, leaving Alfred alone in the forest with whirling thoughts and a heavy heart, not sure if he was more confused by the unicorn's words or how exactly one went about making a ghost fall for a living human—and how a living human went about falling in return knowing that if he did, the ghost would be gone forever. Man, so much for a relaxing getaway, Alfred thought to himself before he made his way out of the forest and back towards the house, where Arthur was.

And where Alfred finally going to get some answers.

TBC…

* * *

Review, yes? Oh, and you're all amazing, just so you know.

Osco


	3. Part Three

**TITLE:** A Simple Ghost(Love) Story  
**GENRE:** Romance/humor, a teeny bit of angst  
**PAIRING(S):** some Prussia/Hungary  
**RATING: **PG-13, for potty mouths**  
WARNINGS:** Possible necrophilia(not really, unless you're a prude ^_~), magical creatures, human names, fluff, lots of it  
**SUMMARY:** Just the same old story; boy meets ghost, boy falls for ghost, the rest is simple. No matter what Alfred thinks.  
**NOTES:** Done for the Secret Santa at **usxuk** community on Livejournal. A thousand thanks to the wonderful, loverly **absolute_power** who beta'ed this monstrosity for me and did it with love! A further thanks to the band The Fray whose wonderful song "Where the Story Ends" was a heavy inspiration to this story and you can spot it's influence in the titles of the parts. Hope you all enjoy, especially you **kupodesu**!

* * *

_**A Simple Ghost Story**_

_Part Three: Kiss Away the Difference_

It didn't take Alfred long to make the rest of the trip back to the manor, considering he was more than halfway back to begin with when he'd been yanked into the woods, and how he was running now instead of walking. He bounded up the steps of the porch and threw open the door, jacket hanging off one shoulder messily, not caring that he was tracking leaves and dirt into the house. He called out for Arthur to come down as he shut the door and straightened his glasses, which had gone askew again during his sprint home; he scowled when his calls went unanswered. He threw his jacket off completely and stomped over to the foot of the stairs. Fine, if Arthur wanted to play hardball, Alfred could play hardball.

"Arthur, I just had a discussion with a talking blue _unicorn_ in that weird little forest down the way about you being a ghost and how I need to help you so if you don't float your skinny ass down here right now I'm going to go back outside, make some mud, and track it. All. Through. This. Stupid. House!"

Alfred gave a shiver as a cold breeze rushed down the stairs but still smiled triumphantly as he turned around and met a glaring, angry Arthur who was floating far enough off the ground that he was taller than Alfred. His fists were clenched and his thick eyebrows were furrowed impressively and he looked extremely annoyed; he looked rather cute all puffed up like that, Alfred thought belatedly before he scolded himself silently for the bad thought. Stupid unicorn; he hadn't noticed these thoughts before the unicorn had told him about getting Arthur to fall in love and how the fairies thought Alfred was already falling and now it was all he could think about. And, now that he thought about it, they happened pretty frequently.

"If you track filthy feet through _my_ house I will make sure that you have a permanent mark on your face from the doors in this house, you great Neanderthal!"

"Did you hear what I said about the blue unicorn that dragged me into the woods to have a chat?"

Arthur's angry face melted down into one of confusion and he slowly lowered closer to the floor, his eye brows still furrowed but no longer attempting to look fearsome. "A, ah, _blue_ unicorn you said?"

"Well, bluish. He had a dark blue mane and blue eyes at any rate. And he could _talk_." Alfred crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow as Arthur processed his words; he gave a small smile as the ghost's face almost literally lit up in success as he pointed a finger in Alfred's face.

"I told you they were real you daft fool! I told you and you just scoffed and rolled your eyes at me, which was ridiculous as you're obviously talking with a ghost of all things and it made no sense to believe in ghosts but not Faerie creatures, but now _you've_ seen them too! And you even talked with Clover! That's actually quite rare, he's somewhat picky with whom he decides to show himself to and even more so to whom he decides to speak with." Arthur's eyes cleared of their maniacal righteousness at having proven himself right to Alfred, even if he hadn't really done anything and it had been the fairies' doing, as his mind began trying to work out why the unicorn, Clover, had spoken with Alfred at all if he was so picky- and with someone who hadn't even believed in magic beings besides ghosts before tonight. His expression tightened as he recalled Alfred's earlier words.

"You said he spoke to you in order to help me? Help me how?"

Alfred felt his ears heat up but he tried not to let all of Clover's words cloud his head; Arthur didn't need to know about the whole 'falling in love' thing, that would just make things awkward. "So you can, you know, move on. Quit being a ghost."

Alfred had expected a lot of different reactions to those words, most of them relatively positive, but what he got was nothing of the sort. Arthur's face kind of crumpled in on itself and he looked down, his fists clenching at his sides. Even though he didn't breathe, Alfred could hear Arthur mimicking the quick and short inhales of someone who had heard something unpleasant but was determined to not let himself fall apart. Alfred bit his lip and reached out instinctively to try and comfort Arthur, but his hand passed through the ghost's shoulder, which made him feel even worse because he couldn't even do that much to help the ghost. Arthur's head snapped up and he glanced over at his shoulder where Alfred's hand had passed through, a look of surprise on his face before he shook his head and focused his gaze back on Alfred's.

"Hey, look, I'm sorry if I— I thought you'd be happy about being able to move on! It's not like I'm trying to kick you out or anything, I like having you here— it's just— I mean— I thought that's what you wanted, is all." Alfred's voice trailed off into an apologetic mumble, but the knots of guilt in his stomach at having upset Arthur loosened a bit as Arthur shook his head and gave a small, sad smile that didn't quite form on his face.

"It's— well, it's not as if you could've known, you fool. I suppose others in my predicament would most likely be cheered at the prospect of being able to 'move on' and all that rot. Quit being the bloody ghost of Christmas past."

"So, why aren't you?" Arthur did not answer his question, just shook his head and gave a noncommittal shrug as he picked at nonexistent lint on his ghostly clothes. Alfred blew out a sigh and cocked his head to the side, giving Arthur an encouraging smile until the ghost looked back up at him. "It's not a big deal that you don't want to, I'm just curious."

"I— well, to tell you the truth I don't rightly know exactly _why_ the thought of moving on doesn't appeal to me. It just— it doesn't seem fair or right that in order for me to find 'peace' _I _have to be the one to give up on _my_ afterlife when everything else was stolen from me in the first place."

Alfred stared at Arthur for a moment and fought down the urge to hug the ghost, knowing he'd just go straight through him before he took a deep breath and asked the question he'd been wanting to ask for nearly two months. "Arthur, how did you— what happened to you? I mean, I've just been wondering is all but if it's like private or something you don't have to tell me! I can't really think that talking about how you were, you know, murdered could really be something a ghost would enjoy talking about but I was just thinking that—"

"It was spring." Arthur's voice was low and rough and he wasn't looking at Alfred but the younger man immediately stopped his rambling and followed Arthur as the ghost floated into the kitchen. He took a seat at the table as the ghost pulled out a chair for him; Arthur did his half-floating, half-sitting thing as well, though he still wouldn't look at Alfred. "There was a travelling artist who has staying with my family… my mother had commissioned him to paint a family portrait after my father passed."

Arthur took a facsimile of a deep breath and finally looked up to meet Alfred's gaze, which he hoped he kept understanding and not too curious. "I'd always been different, Alfred, ever since I was a boy. My mother said I was 'touched' or some other nonsense; I could, and still can as you've realized now, see all sorts of creatures that live in the little forest down the road. My siblings avoided me, said I was cursed, and after my father died, my mother, who had been the only one who had called it a gift, became cold and uncaring about any of us.

"The artist who visited, Antonio, was the first person who didn't treat me as if I was a bother or a leper in so long. And he— and he and I—"

Alfred knew what Arthur was trying to say and suddenly Clover's insistence on Alfred getting Arthur to fall in love with him made a lot more sense. Alfred knew how society was today about same-sex couples, he could only imagine what it would've been like for Arthur when he was alive and struggling with what his heart was telling him and being told it was evil at the same time. At least now there were support groups and stuff for kids who didn't have the kind of parents like Alfred had. Arthur had gone back to staring at his hands, which were fiddling above the table as if they were wringing an invisible napkin and his face looked so troubled that Alfred didn't stop to think.

He reached over and hovered his hand over Arthur's, not really touching, but giving the illusion of doing so, just as they had shaken hands when they first met. Arthur started again and stared up at Alfred with a bit more surprise than Alfred expected but he stayed the course and scooted closer, hoping he didn't get scolded later for letting the chair scrape against the floor. "Hey, no need to get upset or anything. That was a long time ago, a lot of people were probably stupid about something as simple as being in love. I'm certainly not gonna hate you or anything!"

Arthur narrowed his eyes but there was a cautious kind of hope there as well. Damn, was this why Arthur had never told him what happened? Because he was afraid that Alfred would get all angry and disgusted and leave or try to exorcise him? Alfred felt a warm swoop of affection flutter within his chest at the thought and what it implied about how high Arthur valued their friendship, valued him. "No? You're all right with—?"

"Well if I wasn't it'd be pretty hypocritical of me," Alfred responded shyly. Arthur's eyes widened even more and his jaw dropped for a moment before he remembered himself and promptly closed it, giving a shaky jerk of his head in understanding. "I mean, you probably don't really know everything about how the world has changed being cooped up here, but there's a lot less hate out there nowadays."

Alfred let silence bloom between them, not wanting to pressure Arthur to speak any further about what had happened if he didn't want to, but as the silence grew longer another thought popped into his head. Obviously, Arthur and this painter guy had been 'intimate,' which thinking about made Alfred feel strangely jealous, and that didn't even make sense as this had been a hundred years before he'd even been born; Alfred doubted that Arthur was the kind of person to just sleep with someone he didn't feel anything for. So what had the unicorn meant about Arthur never being in love? If he had been, what was keeping him here, what was his unfinished business? What was the point in getting him to fall in love with him if he'd already experienced it?

After a few more moments of silence, Arthur finally began speaking again. "I- I suppose that could be true. Nonetheless, it wasn't approved of when I was alive- still, Antonio had been kind and I, like a fool, believed in what he told me."

Oh... oh, maybe that was why. A broken heart, that's why Arthur was stuck here; that's why Clover and the fairies wanted Arthur to fall in love, to heal what had happened to him. Arthur's voice got lower and darker as he continued speaking, his eyes almost seeming to glow in anger as he remembered his life and what had to be his death.

"I wrote him poems and letters, detailing what I felt for him and such; I knew it was dangerous, but Antonio liked them and… but one day my brother William found one. He was the eldest and considered the Lord of our estate after my father died and— and he had been furious. He confronted Antonio, who told him he humored my affections because he was worried about being sent away before he could finish his commissions, that _I _had been the one who pursued _him_ and my brother being my brother, and knowing how different I was and that I was 'touched', believed him.

"He- he told the rest of my family first, about how I was cursed and 'afflicted' and that I had to be taken care of before I shamed the family… they agreed with him. My family, they _all _agreed with him. And then he grabbed one of the cook's knives, kicked open my door, and stabbed me to death before I could so much as run away or protect myself. They told everyone I'd committed suicide, buried me in the family lot, and forgot that Lady Kirkland had ever had a son called Arthur."

Alfred stared and felt anger surge through his veins at the rueful smile Arthur sent his way, the story of his death finished and leaving behind only regret and dull anger in Arthur's eyes. "Not the happiest of stories, I'm afraid."

Alfred made a kind of strangled noise in his throat before he shook his head in agreement; not only did he have a broken heart, but Arthur had also been betrayed by his family and the guy he cared about and been murdered by his own brother. It was so horribly unfair and it made Alfred want to punch that artist and William until they felt a fraction of the pain that Arthur obviously still did, that stupid rule about respecting the dead be damned! If he was going to respect any of the dead involved in that terrible story, it sure as hell was going to be Arthur, not some pussy artist who threw Arthur under the bus to save his own skin or some jackass monster who could _murder_ his own brother.

Arthur hadn't deserved that kind of life or death, a life where he'd had to hide who he was from everyone, where he'd had a gift called a curse, where he had to deal with brothers who were cruel and a mother who abandoned him in her grief. He hadn't deserved to be lied to and cheated by someone who was supposed to have been his first love. He hadn't deserved the gruesome murder that had taken away any chance at happiness in life or death because of the memories it left him with. Alfred had never felt so angry or sad for someone else in his life and wished for even just one second that his touch would hold and he could hold Arthur and let him know that he hadn't deserved any of that.

But he couldn't and Alfred wasn't great with words outside of his comic.

"That— that shouldn't have happened, Artie. Jesus I— I don't even know what to say other than I really want to kick your dead brother's ass and make sure he's in hell for what he did! You're not evil or 'afflicted' or whatever. You're— you're totally normal and awesome in your own, stodgy way." _Better than normal_, he whispered to himself.

Maybe he wasn't the greatest with words, but his seemed to be what Arthur needed to hear; the ghost gave Alfred a measured look before he offered a small smile and nodded his head. "Well, obviously I think so now, as it was a horrendous thing to do to me for something that wasn't harming them, and I made sure to remind them of that until they moved permanently out of the manor, but thank you, nonetheless. I haven't shared what happened with anyone beyond the Faerie creatures that visit."

"No problem, Artie! And hey, if you don't want to move on or anything, you don't have to… I mean, it's your afterlife. You do what you want with it."

"Arthur, it's Arthur, you bloody Yank," Arthur muttered without real ire. His voice held something more like affection, exasperated affection. It was the same tone Mattie generally used when Alfred was being especially obnoxious—hearing Arthur use it with him now made his chest flutter warmly again and he smiled in response. As he smiled though, he felt something awful settle in his stomach.

Hearing Arthur's story, seeing the pain that it caused him, knowing that he didn't deserve that pain, and experiencing the range of emotions he had in hearing the story, only solidified the realization that not only did Alfred find Arthur to be adorable, attractive and endearing, but that he was probably feeling so strongly about what had happened because _he_ kind of wanted to be the one who showed Arthur what he deserved. It was stupid and ridiculous and totally out of some chick-flick movie, but Alfred was falling for a damn English ghost, just like Clover the unicorn and the stalker-fairies said he was. It didn't matter that they couldn't really touch, it didn't matter that Alfred was alive while Arthur was 'kind of' dead, and it didn't matter that in a few short months, Alfred was going to have to leave to go back home to New York.

He had a thousand things he wanted to say to Arthur as they sat at the kitchen table and stared at one another but he couldn't say any of them. It wasn't fair to him, wasn't fair to say what he felt right before he left when Arthur didn't want to move on only to leave him alone again because Arthur couldn't leave his family's manor. So, instead he grinned wider and gave Arthur a mock pat on the back before he stood up, deciding it was better for everyone if he tried to forget his revelation and what the unicorn had told him.

"You got it, Arthur, you got it."

It was for the best.

* * *

Alfred was not looking forward to going home in the next two weeks. And because he was not pleased, he found himself brooding, not pouting, on the front porch of the manor and avoiding Arthur as much as he could, even though Alfred knew that Arthur was hurt by his avoidance which made him feel like a huge jerk. He'd got a call from Kiku that afternoon to confirm his flight back to New York at the beginning of October, followed by one from Mattie and his parents who all wanted to add in their two cents about how much they missed him and were looking forward to seeing him again. And Alfred didn't want to make them feel bad, because he missed them too, but he couldn't bring himself to feel happy about going home—because going home meant leaving Arthur.

It meant leaving behind the stupid ghost that Alfred had fallen for without really knowing it and having to deal with the awful pain of being separated from the one person he loved. To top it off, he _still_ didn't know exactly how he wanted Captain Liberty to get his powers back, which had been the whole reason for the trip to England in the first place before he'd met Arthur, so he was going to be a failure in addition to having a broken heart. Awesome.

Arthur had been trying to snap him out of his crummy mood all day, even though he was also not happy with the thought of Alfred leaving. Alfred wasn't having it though and had lazed about the house all day, which Arthur had scolded him for half-heartedly since Elizaveta and Gilbert were coming over to make dinner for them both, and even though Arthur couldn't eat, he was still attending dinner, and Alfred needed to help clean which made Alfred get snappish with the ghost. Arthur's face had done that crumpled thing afterwards that always made Alfred feel like he kicked a puppy and had disappeared while Alfred had tried to apologize

Hence, the brooding on the porch, his blue eyes dull behind his glasses and hands buried in his blond hair, wishing he had never talked to that stupid unicorn and realized just how much he cared about Arthur. He'd never before felt like how he felt for Arthur—he'd never really experienced the 'I can't breathe without you near' kind of love and always thought that was kind of a myth. But, it did catch his breath when he thought of never seeing Arthur again and it made his heart clench something fierce; Alfred hoped this wasn't Cupid punishing him for not believing.

He shut his eyes tight and sat back, letting his arms drop heavily to his sides, wishing he hadn't snapped at Arthur, that he hadn't tried to avoid him so much recently, that Arthur hadn't been so great in his own right during his stay in Kirkland manor, that he hadn't shared his awful death. That Alfred didn't see just how much Arthur cared about him every time he caught Arthur staring when he thought he wasn't looking because that made him want to shout out how much he cared and that he didn't want to leave and for Arthur to come with him when he couldn't. It was all so messed up and Alfred didn't know how to fix anything; this wasn't a Hollywood movie where a happy ending was going to happen. They had two choices, either exchange 'I love yous' and watch Arthur try to move on or separate without saying anything and try to forget each other and the past four months.

Neither choice got Alfred what he wanted—Arthur.

"Well, I have to say I'm surprised that you're giving up so easily. Aren't you Americans supposed to be a stubborn lot?"

Alfred blinked his eyes open and stared into Clover's cobalt eyes, an unhappy scowl forming between his eyes at the sarcastic drawl from the unicorn who had made everything worse.

"You can just go away, you dumb horse. I don't want to talk to you."

"Now, now, there's no need to get all pouty with me; I'm trying to help you out, remember?"

"And by 'helping me out' you've made me realize that you and the dumb fairies were right about me and Arthur, which makes me feel like crap because I've either got to tell him and try to convince him to move on or not tell him and leave! Neither of those are very nice options for either of us, you know!"

"Because you love him?"

Alfred stuttered a bit and blushed bright red at the blunt question but eventually choked out an answer. "W-well obviously, I mean—you all know—isn't it obvious? You guys were the ones who pointed it out to me in the first place!"

Clover snorted and cantered forward so that his head was resting over the porch, his eyes blinking at him knowingly. "_We_ never said anything of the sort, thank you. I just mentioned that it looked like you had potential to help since you seemed to care about our wayward ghost. That you love him is something you would have needed to work out all on your own."

Alfred glared but thought back on the exchange in the woods and found that the damn unicorn was right, the jerk. He sat up straighter and crossed his arms with a huff, glaring down at Clover with a severe expression that clearly said he was neither impressed nor won over by the unicorn's argument. "Yeah, well you still stuck me with a crappy choice! You got me to realize that I've fallen for Artie and now I've got to choose to either leave him or give him up? It's not fair to either of us! He didn't deserve what happened to him and to have such a crappy outlook on love because of those assholes and you want me to show him how much better it'd be with me only to say 'well now that you know that, move on and die for real now?' That's bullshit."

Clover snickered at him and tossed his mane back in humor, which would have made Alfred even angrier if he hadn't noticed the approving or kind look in the unicorn's eyes, so he had to settle for mildly confused and annoyed. "You're absolutely right, Alfred Jones, it is bullshit. And we, as Arthur Kirkland's beloved friends and Faerie companions, would certainly not want to wish something so horrible on either him or you, who he's clearly befuddled over."

"That's right— wait, what? How do you know he's befuddled over me?" Alfred felt like he was suddenly years younger and getting told his crush was agreeing to going to a school dance with him. He could feel a pleased, warm flush travel down his neck and he was smiling like an idiot at the thought of Arthur talking to his magical friends, whom he obviously valued, about him and about how he liked him. It almost made him forget he was supposed to be pissed off with the stupid unicorn.

"Who do you think he babbles on about endlessly? You, obviously, but don't fish for compliments. You already have a healthy enough self-esteem as it is."

"But— so you don't want to screw us over?"

"What have I been telling you, boy? If we liked Arthur, do you really think we want to cause him more pain?"

"Well, no, not really, but—"

"There you are. Now that that's sorted, you can quit being a twat and actually listen to me. You've been so focused on what's impossible and what you can't do that you haven't stopped to think about what you _can_."

"What? I so have! The problem is all I can come up with are shitty choices and—"

"That you obviously cannot do because it would hurt Arthur and yourself too much to consider. So the clear answer is to take Arthur with you."

"But- but I can't! He's a ghost, he can't leave the manor or the grounds and he can't—!"

"Can't, can't, can't… no wonder you're in a foul mood."

"Would you quit interrupting me? Don't you think I'd take him home with me in a heartbeat if I could? But he's told me he's not able to leave the damn house, that he's stuck here until he moves on."

"He's stuck here as a ghost. He'd be perfectly able to leave here as a man."

Alfred stared and tried to form a reply but could only manage to do a decent impression of a beached fish at Clover's calm, matter-of-fact words. Arthur could— he could be human again? Actually alive? He'd have to be to be a man to be alive and then, then he really could leave with Alfred. Alfred could tell him everything he'd wanted to for weeks and actually be able to touch his shoulder, feel his hair, _hold_ him even and count his breathing in time with his own. But, Arthur was dead, he was a ghost, he'd been stabbed to death and buried over a hundred years ago and his body was likely only bones by now. He didn't understand how that could even be possible; he'd encountered a lot of stuff in the past few months he'd never dreamed he would but Arthur becoming alive again just didn't make sense!

"But- but how? I mean, he doesn't have a body or anything and—"

"He has a body, it's what you see every time he shows up, what he lacks is flesh and that can easily be remedied with the proper motivation and power. What he really lacks though, and what he needs in order to leave this place, is a heart. A heart freely given to him in the desire to give breath and body to his soul, a heart to share— have any idea where we could find one of those?"

Oh, Alfred had an idea all right. "But how would that even work? I mean, you can't physically remove a heart without killing someone and I doubt you're some fancy heart surgeon in disguise. And besides, without a body, a real body, a heart wouldn't be able to go anywhere but the floor and—"

"Magic, remember? Honestly, you're thinking about this too much; you're getting all lost in the details. You want him to be free, so do something about it; doesn't need to be more complex than that."

Alfred stood up and stared at the unicorn, his thoughts swirling about his head almost too fast for him to really think, as Clover's words rushed past him. Magic, magic which Clover liked to say was just like science; magic, which had basically surrounded his life since he came to England; magic… what all the Faerie creatures claimed Arthur had in life and death. If Alfred could live with a ghost for months, talk to unicorns, and believe in fairies stalking him…why couldn't he believe that giving Arthur his heart would bring him back to life? Maybe that was the problem, not Arthur being a ghost, but how Alfred was so disbelieving in everything that his being a ghost implied and if it could ever work, logically, between them, then he was mucking everything up before it had a chance. Maybe he just needed to stop thinking about it so much and just do it and hope for the best, hope that everything would turn out fine and he could sweep Arthur away and off into the sunset like any good hero would.

Maybe he needed to stop telling himself that he couldn't touch Arthur and just give it a fucking try.

He whirled around and hurried back inside, throwing open the door in his excitement and yelled out for Arthur as if his life depended on it and smiled brightly when he saw the ghost materialize quickly at the foot of the stairs, looking at him with undisguised worry. Arthur really was beautiful, though he probably wouldn't like to be called something girly like that, but being so translucent and bathed in the sunlight from the house, he looked like an angel; Alfred felt his grin growing to giddy proportions. Arthur's eyebrows scrunched together cutely as his expression went from worried to confused and he cautiously moved towards Alfred.

"Alfred, are you quite all right? You're looking rather— well, mad."

"I'm totally awesome. Listen, I know I've been a total dick all day but the thing is, I'm kinda in love with you and the thought of having to leave really sucked so it made me a jerk, but I think there's a way to make you human again, at least Clover thinks so and he's been right most of the damn time so far, so what you need to do is not be angry with me anymore and tell me if you love me back." The words all came out in a rush and Alfred felt a little winded afterwards, still smiling widely into Arthur's stunned and rapidly blushing face. The ghost floated back a pace and shook his head, trying to form words but nothing escaping but silence. Arthur looked away as if to try and disappear again rather than answer, but Alfred took a step closer and reached, resting his hand against Arthur's arm.

You know, Alfred almost thought that they were touching right then. No, he didn't think, he _knew_ they were. Impossible as that was, they were touching.

Arthur looked up and blinked deep green eyes at Alfred, his expression torn and mixed up between joy and sorrow, hope and despair, glancing at how Alfred's hand rested against where the flesh of his arm should've been, before looking back up. "Alfred, why are you—? It doesn't matter what I- what I feel or- or anything! You can't stay here and waste your life away and I certainly won't let you!"

"Come on, Artie, tell me anyway. Even if it's stupid."

"No! It's—"

"It does, tell me."

"Alfred you can't honestly—"

"Sure I can. Arthur, tell me."

"Fine you bloody prat! I love you, all right? Is that what you wanted to hear? That I love you and you have to leave? That it's pointless that I love you or that you love me because nothing can ever come of it and I am dead and you're so- so _alive_ and wonderful and that you would even bother with me at all is utterly preposter—!"

Alfred didn't wait to listen to the rest of Arthur's emotional word vomit or focus on the fact that what looked like pearly tears were gathering in his eyes or try and interrupt him and tell him all the reasons why Alfred liked to bother with Arthur. Instead he leaned in hard and fast, his hands reaching up to clutch at Arthur's shoulders, settling his lips over the ranting Englishman's. He could feel something humming around them the moment their lips touched, actually _touched_ and Arthur's words choked off in a startled gasp, something heady and rushing, and he smiled slightly into the kiss, trying to coax Arthur out of his surprised stupor so he'd do something more than just float there. He did, a sound that sounded perilously close to a sob escaping from him before he reached up and gripped Alfred's neck with cold hands that did not sink through flesh.

Alfred thought he felt something like wind start to whip around them, and in the wind, what sounded like words floated down between them, asking, wondering, binding them tighter than any old red thread could. And in those words, Alfred felt something warm rush through him and settle on his chest, waiting for his final approval, for his understanding that this was not something to agree to lightly. That whether he or Arthur ended up working out past this, whether what they built between them in Kirkland manor could last past the old grounds, they'd be bound together, one heart, two bodies, and if he could accept that risk. He wrapped his arms around Arthur and nodded slightly; it was always a risk, trying something new, not really knowing what was going to come next or whether it would work… but if Alfred was going to take that chance with anyone, it'd be with Arthur. That's what love was, after all.

_Magic wind, it's totally fine. I don't mind sharing if it means he gets a second chance._

Then, there was nothing but an odd pulling sensation on his chest before everything stopped, the wind, the voices, and unfortunately the kissing. Alfred was kind of disappointed; he'd been hoping for a _Beauty and the Beast_ thing with lights jutting out from toes and fingers or something at least since it was all kind of anti-climactic. But when he looked down his nose and stared at Arthur, with two solid feet solidly on the ground, slightly pale skin, tousled honey-blond hair that caught glints of sunlight and the same green eyes blinking up at him in disbelief and amazement, that didn't seem as important anymore. Alfred smiled and wrapped Arthur tight against him before spinning them around the room with a bit of moisture collecting in the corners of his own eyes. He buried his face in Arthur's neck when he felt the slighter man grip him back tightly and murmur tearful words against his ear— Arthur was warm and solid and alive.

And if Alfred listened closely, he could hear the beat of Arthur's heart in time with his own, one heart shared between two willingly. God, it was so corny but strike him down if that didn't make him feel even mistier about the whole thing. Arthur gripped his face as Alfred stopped spinning and settled them both back on solid ground, leaning in to place another chaste, simple kiss on Alfred's lips, pulling away with a small smile that made Alfred tingle from his nose to the tips of his toes. "You are an utter and complete fool, Alfred F Jones, I hope you know that. Completely daft."

"Yeah, probably… but I can be _your_ utter fool right? I did give you half my heart after all."

Arthur smiled wider before rising on his toes to rest his forehead against Alfred's. "Yes, a thousand times yes."

Alfred gave a fist-pump in victory before he swooped back in and went back to kissing Arthur like their lives depended on it. He mentally reminded himself that after they were done here, he was going to have to take Arthur out to say hello to Clover and all the others again, and that he was going to have to explain to Elizaveta and Gilbert how Arthur was their recently reanimated ghost, and he was going to have to call Kiku and ask him to get another ticket back to New York. But Arthur's warm and living lips under his were way more important so he just kept on kissing him, resting their clasped hands over their synchronized heartbeats.

Kiku Honda got to his office early as per usual, and sipped his coffee with one hand while he reached down and pressed the play button on his blinking answering machine. It was his least favorite part of the day, listening to his co-workers, publishing representatives, and fellow editors whine all morning about how they needed to speak with him and other such nonsense, but it was best to get it out of the way early. Besides, he was waiting to hear back from Alfred-san to confirm his flight home. Kiku was slightly worried about Alfred-san if he was being honest— the last time they spoke on the phone, he would not divulge how much he'd worked on the comic, if at all, and had seemed rather, sad. Despondent. Very un-Alfred like. But there was no use in worrying over nothing, so he had not made too much an issue of it when Matthew called and asked how it was going.

After listening to a few less than pleasant buyers wondering when the next Captain Liberty comic would be released, Kiku was finally able to listen to Alfred-san's voice… and afterwards he smiled before flipping open his phone to add another ticket to Alfred-san's flight. He walked back out of his office, giving his assistant Liu* a small, polite smile before he went about returning his missed calls.

"_Hey Kiku! Listen, sorry if I seemed kinda off last time, there was some stuff going on between me and this guy I met over here but it's all good now! Listen, would you mind booking an extra ticket back home to New York? I'll explain everything to everyone when I see you all but I'm bringing back the love of my life home with— stop hitting me, you are! No need to get all huffy, Kiku's totally cool…jeez, remember, 2010, not 1885 anymore Artie! Anyway yeah two tickets please. _

"_Oh and I got the best idea for how Captain Liberty gets his powers back! I think I was over-thinking it before, trying to make it too big and logical but what if Liberty shuts himself away after he loses his powers because he doesn't think he's worth anything to anyone without them but as he wallows and stuff, because I can make his wallowing pretty awesome, he meets this other Super called Iggy who's totally uppity and has control over living stuff and they work together to find out that Liberty's powers may have been stolen but that doesn't mean he can't be a hero… and in trying to stop Winter on his own without any powers he proves what being a true hero is and gets them back? Yeah, could use some work, but let me know what you think! I think the fans would like it a lot. Anyway, your machine's gonna cut me off so I'll talk to you later dude! See you in a few days!"_

_Finis_

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* Liu = Taiwan (you were right, Bish :3)

It's finished! I want to thank everyone's who's been reading this and so supportive, this idea really took a hold of me to be honest and I'm thrilled so many you of you liked it as well and hope that you enjoyed the conclusion! Oh, and miss Kupodesu, thank YOU so much for giving me such a wonderful prompt, this story wouldn't have exited without you!

I have a surprise for most of you. My wonderful beta, absolute_power, mentioned after she read the last chapter for the first time how much she would have liked too see a bit more fluff between our favorite pair here. And me being me, took that to mean I should write an epilogue. SO I did ^_^. AND…it's finished. Expect to see it posted on it's own in a few days!

Review my lovelies! Story favs and alerts are flattering, but a good review feeds the soul!

Osco


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